Down to the dust


Ain’ nuthin’ left here ‘cep
six uv us an’ dry stahks ‘a corn.
We’re up ta movin west
soon as I sort out the T-Ford.
Jenny, ma wife, is set to
have anuther to make us seven.
Got some taters an’ dry beans
in the root cellah, but not much
beyon’ that, relyin’ on the Lord
to provide a way through the storm.
Ah’m proud of the chilren, they got
a strenth beyon’ anything I known.
When jedgement day comes it won’
be no surprise, we alreddy been jedged
an’ been found holdin’ the strenth
of spirits who can survive culamity
and beyond, way beyond what we thought
we could hold in that handful of dust.

I work with words, sounds and images to come up

with combinations that hopefully do justice to Socrates’

maxim of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts.

I do believe that the voice is a necessary part of the

full poetic experience, along with music and movement,

even if it’s a movement of the hands or eyes.